The Girl Who Knows
by NightsideInk
Summary: Why does Grimmjow keep coming back to Orihime's room? It's not like he's her personal jailer, that's Ulquiorra's job. But there's something there he can't resist. Rated for Grimmy's foul mouth. Reviews are appreciated.


**Disclaimer: **

I do not own _Bleach_, all characters herein belong to Kubo Tite. I don't make any money doing this either. I just enjoy manipulating my favorite characters to do my twisted bidding.

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She didn't know why he came to visit her. His dislike of her rather naive and innocent nature was apparent, as was his dislike of all humans. Yet he still came. Almost every day.

At first he would merely watch her, as if he had been demoted to be her personal prison guard. His icy blue eyes followed her every movement, and the heat that rose in them was anything but friendly. After awhile he started to talk to her; his mouth issuing forth a constant barrage of foul language and lewd suggestions that made her face hot and sent swarms of butterflies whizzing about in her stomach. Once the suggestions were so vulgar that she actually slapped him but this only made his predatory smile widen. She feared for her life when he gave her that wicked smile.

One particular day when Grimmjow slipped into her room, she was waiting for him on the couch and she patted the seat beside her. Today she had a plan, but in order for it to work, he had to come closer.

Normally she kept her distance from him. Today something had changed. It all felt very suspicious to the sixth Espada, but he reluctantly sat down next to her. His mouth opened to say something, but before he could unleash another spew of wicked suggestions, Orihime reached up and scratched him behind the ear.

His face contorted into a combination of shock and pleasure. He fought hard to not give in to the feelings of pleasure that coursed through him; swallowing the purr that was building up inside, he tried to think of something scathing and hurtful instead. Nothing came to mind. Nothing at all. His brain switched off the thinking part and had reverted into the primitive mind of a beast. This girl's light touch in that sensitive spot felt good.

Orihime grinned, knowing she had the upper hand. "Good kitty," she crooned.

Swimming through the haze of contented feelings, the angry, rational part of him swam back to the surface of his consciousness. He shot her a look of disgust. "I'm not your fucking pussy cat," he growled.

"Awww, you will be." She increased the stimulation on his sweet spot and the next sound out of his mouth was a loud purr. "See, that's so much better. Who's a pretty kitty?"

Grimmjow snarled at her. His pride was already hurt enough without her patronizing comments. He pushed her away from him and stood up. "Stop touching me."

"You know, if you weren't so vulgar and mean all the time more people would like you."

"Like I give a fuck if people like me." He crossed his arms over his chest in a typical defensive gesture. His whole body was alive with anger and something else that his mind couldn't put a name to; small niggling sensation in the back of his brain that tormented him.

"I think you do."

"Well you're wrong. Stupid girl," he grumbled.

"I'm not wrong," she said. "Everyone wants people to like them, even if they don't know it."

"That doesn't make any sense," he argued.

She shrugged. "Maybe not to you, but it's the truth."

"Not for me. I don't want people to like me! Especially not a stupid bitch like you!" Grimmjow had had enough. He turned away from her and stormed towards the door.

"I think there's a little part of you, way down inside, that's sad. I think you're lonely," Orihime whispered. When she looked into his eyes sometimes, she saw something there, just a faint glimmer of something beyond the meanness. It intrigued her and she wanted to satisfy her curiosity by finding out what it was. She wanted to help him. It probably sounded stupid, but that haunting desperation in his eyes troubled her.

Those quiet words stung him and he whipped around to yell at her, but the words never came. She was right in front of him now, deep sadness in her eyes. Sadness for him. A sadness that he mistook for pity, something that angered him even more. He had this undeniable urge to crush her, to break her optimism and innocence like glass, shatter her like a rose under his boot heel.

Following his instincts he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the wall. She flinched but she never took her eyes from his. Those eyes… They burned into him with that same sad look he'd been trying to erase.

"Stop looking at me that way!" He howled. That look, it bothered him more than he wanted it to. That little unnamed sensation from a few minutes ago was back, but it was bigger now. He was afraid that maybe she was right. Right about everything and that she knew him better than he thought she did.

Orihime reached out and stroked his cheek tenderly and her sadness for him grew in her heart until it choked her more forcefully than his grip on her throat.

"Stop it!" He shook his head to make her stop touching him, but his grip on her throat loosened.

She took her hand and gently pulled his fingers away from her bruised neck and entwined them with her own. She stepped into the curve of his body and on tiptoes, reached up to kiss his lips.

Grimmjow's eyes went wide in shock. He should have stopped her, pulled away, or slapped her. He should have done something other than kiss her back. But he didn't. He let himself be swept away by the sweetness of that first guileless kiss. She tasted like kindness and rain, a taste he couldn't get enough of.

Orihime pulled back and gave him a shy smile. She'd never kissed anyone before. Since he didn't seem to object, she led him by the hand back to the couch and sat down. He resisted for a moment, but she pulled him down with more force than he imagined she possessed.

Still somewhat stunned from her kiss, Grimmjow allowed Orihime to tug him down until his head was resting in her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair. It was softer than she had imagined. He acted so gruff and hard all the time she thought maybe he felt that way too, but he didn't. He was flesh just like she was. It was a nice surprise. His soft blue hair tickled her fingers, and the skin of his face and neck were smooth and cool like stone, but not hard. She let herself explore the map of his body slowly, running her fingers over his forehead and down the one unmasked cheek, down his neck to the hollow of his throat. One hand explored while the other gently tickled that spot behind his ear, the sweet spot that tamed his anger.

Everything faded away in Grimmjow's mind. All his anger, unease and frustration were erased. He decided that it was useless to argue with this woman. So he let her work her magic and purred contentedly.

"I like you much better like this," Orihime said. Her free hand came to rest on his bare chest. Slowly she was bridging the gap, sorting him out. He wasn't so bad when he was quiet like this, almost docile. It was hard to imagine he had ever been docile. Maybe, in time, she could tame him just enough to make him less angry, less destructive, without taking away from who he was. There was a wildness to him that excited her and scared her a little bit too; she didn't want to lose that.

After awhile, Grimmjow had fallen into a daze, overwhelmed by so much simple pleasure. It was a contented feeling that was different from anything he'd felt before. It was different from the pleasure that came from killing or fighting; it went deeper. He wanted to hold onto it longer but he sensed that Ulquiorra would soon be on his way to Orihime's room with her meal and there was no way he'd let himself be caught in this position by anyone, especially not Ulquiorra.

As long as no one ever found out what went on in this room when he came to visit her, his reputation as a bad ass was safe. Whether she was right or not about his loneliness, he didn't know, but maybe it wasn't such a bad way to kill some time, here with this girl.


End file.
